Sparks
by loungelizard85
Summary: Dick Roman: "Bruce Springsteen, Eli Manning, our own little Charlie – you know what they are? Irreplaceable." That doesn't mean that someone-something didn't try. Set after season 8, and as always I own nothing.


Surprisingly, there was not a lot of lore on the Leviathan in the Bunker. Then again, surprising was probably the wrong word; they weren't ancient, or old.

The Leviathan were _timeless_. After being locked up for what Sam guessed was epochs, the creatures managed to understand the world they were trust in to seamlessly, if with a few hiccups. Demons were humans before, and angels either were incredibly hostile, Zachariah, Uriel or they spoke with such an amount of honorifics that they were sure to stick out: namely, Castiel. Balthazar and Gabriel only managed by combining hedonism that they though was the essence of human free will, with total abandon. They seemed like strangers running from something, and that's exactly what they were. Sam frowned. The Leviathan were the only creatures he and Dean had faced that seemed to have some semblance of respect for humanity, that is, for the _creation_ of humanity. The people themselves were expendable, certainly, but Dick Roman understood that humans were tricky and a few were special enough that not copy of them would ever be like the real thing. Sam frowned deeper, his eyes downcast. The black goo had done such a good job of blending in that even after the leader of the big mouths had exploded spectacularly, taking his brother and Castiel to purgatory, they still referred to it by it's victim's name. Richard Roman was a man, perhaps a cold greedy man, maybe, after all Sam was more concerned, with good reason about his replacement, but that was true for a lot of individuals and Sam would never wish that fate on his worst enemy.

Okay, maybe Lucifer. Perhaps Azazel.

The Leviathan that stole Richard Roman's visage and identity was if anything. An Alpha, obviously. The leader, barely affected by what paralyzed and caused his- _it's _underlings to writhe in pain. And yet it was easy call it by a human's name. maybe he was feeling guilty. Had he been more diligent, Sam could have been certain that Crowley had gotten rid of all of the Leviathan and they wouldn't be in this situation. Rounding a book case, Sam thumbed quickly through a number of books, some in English, some in Latin, a couple in German, likely archaic, bound in leather and dusty. Given the good condition of the rest of the bunker, and the materials, it was likely the light coating was left by the Men of Letters, meaning that the books had fallen in to disuse shortly before Abbadon killed them.

_No help here, _Sam mused. Walking the length of the library, and reaching the passage way to the dungeon where Dean stood, glaring at their current captive, chained to the wall. The thing was, both hunters knew they weren't dealing with a demon, and that seemed all the bunker was good for; things predating pagan gods _might_ not be able to get in, thanks to the binding spells and engravings, but it was unlikely they would want to, having seen the things transpire in first person, and really he suspected the only thing keeping…it in place was a sense of goodwill, if that was possible. Besides, the entire enclave was directed at all things demon, with an appreciation for monsters and certain minor deities. That meant that the sources of those monsters, Eve, the Leviathan, and given their interrelatedness, the hordes of other things that were created before souls were completely ignored.

"Nothing?" Sam shook his head.

"It's basically demon fest up there, Dean. Nothing on Leviathan, or how to find their victims."

"Who needs thousands of books of lore on demons anyway? Devil's trap, exorcism or the Colt."

"Dunno, Dean. But that's it. I'm sorry." Sam stared at the floor, expected to be reprimanded for leaving something as important as big mouth control to a power hungry demon. Instead, Dean picked up a can of Borox and brandished it threateningly.

"One last time. What did you do with Charlie?" A mane of red hair, spread out in a fan shifted as the doppelganger looked up. Tired, dark brown eyes looked up from the gray floor. If Sam didn't know any better, he'd say a little hurt was mixed in with the exhaustion.

"I didn't do anything. Hell, _I_ didn't know I was pulling a _Reverse Flash_ until it happened! You have to believe me." Dean just shook his head.

"No. I don't." As he tipped the can over, the Leviathan formally known as Charlie winced for the impact, and Sam forced himself to watch, a kind of penance, even as the chemical made contract, and a very human shriek of pain erupted from her lips.

A/N: So, not sure if this in the same universe as Nothing More, Notes from Underside or Metatron Presents: The Journal (all of which I will continue) but something I had on my mind since 7.20, especially since there doesn't seem to be a way to kill the Leviathan 'herd' as it were. Leviathon!Charlie's comment is a reference to evil doppelganger's of The Flash, seems like an apt reference for her, and the tone is supposed to be that this incarnation is not aware of her…origins, let's say. Also it doesn't seem that the Bunker has much useful information outside of demons (_300 years_ worth of demonic possession? Sounds like overkill to me, no offense) I know, I know, they find out about Zeus, but rememeber, that was a translated journal, and it seems to be something the MOL stumbled upon in their demon research. Next chapter details what happened, and will be longer. Till then~LoungeLizard.


End file.
